Whisper
by epochalypse
Summary: Smitten since the night he saw her at the Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy makes amends with Hermione Granger. She saw the goodness in him that no one else ever did. It was an unusual friendship. Hogwarts Era, 4th-6th year.


**A/N:** Well, I've always had this idea in my head no matter how unoriginal the theme is. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling (The Queen) owns everything.

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><p>They formed an abnormal friendship. A Malfoy and a Granger; a pureblood and a Muggle-born; a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. No one would have ever expected them to even tolerate each other's presence but here they were, friends. No one would have thought they would eventually fall in love either.<p>

It all started in their Fourth year.

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><p>He was awestruck the very moment he saw her walk gracefully down the stairs, taken the arm of Viktor Krum and walking into the Great Hall for the Yule Ball. There was something about her that night that stuck with him throughout the dance. The confident aura that radiated from her that night was astonishing. Perhaps it was because her date was Krum; he thought to himself and shrugged.<p>

He couldn't deny that she looked absolutely striking in that dress of hers. She finally managed to tame that pathetic excuse of hair, he thought. But the way she looked that night, she was one of the most beautiful girls at the ball. Her grace and poise carried her nicely as she walked into the Great Hall with Krum. He was _almost_ jealous of Krum.

He tried shaking the image of her by dancing with Pansy. The annoying girl kept her hands on him the whole night. He finally managed to escape Pansy's death grip by telling her he needed to get a drink. There, standing next to the drinks fountain, was Krum and Granger. Krum's face lighted up when he saw Draco approach them. He could feel his insides cringing.

"Draco, how vunderful to have you here," Krum shook Draco's hand enthusiastically. "I vant you to meet my lovely date for tonight, Hermy-niny." Draco restrained a snort. 'Hermy-ninny'? Really? Was her name that difficult to pronounce? "We've met," Granger said, smiling at Krum. Draco reached out to take a goblet of pumpkin juice and sipped it elegantly, just like how he was raised to do.

"Oh, Draco, I need a favour from you," Krum said, emphasizing on the 'v' in favour with his strong Bulgarian accent. "My fellow schoolmates want to see me for a moment. Vould you have vun dance with Hermy-ninny to keep her company?"

Draco's mouth could have hit the floor. Many thoughts ran through his head as he slowly processed Krum's words. A slight scowl marred his strong features as he imagined the number of times he'd have to wash his hands with the most expensive soap his Galleons could buy. He shuddered.

"Oh, Viktor, I don't think that would be a very good idea," Granger exclaimed. "I'll be alright waiting for you here." She shot Draco a look, a smug look which clearly expressed her utter distaste of dancing with him. "It is not nice to leave a lady at a dance," Krum said. "Please Draco, dance vith Hermy-ninny, I have to go!"

"Close your gob, Malfoy, wouldn't want to be catching flies in there, would you?" Granger rolled her eyes at him. Krum left them, patting Draco on his back, trusting him to dance with his 'Hermy-ninny' while he joined his schoolmates. "Then again, maybe some maggots in your mouth would suffice."

"Sod off, Granger, I don't want to be in this position as much as you do," Draco frowned, offering his hand to her. "Krum's watching. Let's just get it over and done with."

"Never to speak of this again?" She took his hand in her own.

"Must you even ask?" He placed a hand on her waist. He rolled his eyes at her grimace.

They danced.

Draco would have gladly denied that he absolutely did not dance with Granger out of his own free will. He also would have denied that he felt electricity when Granger held his hand. Then, he would also have denied that he indeed _did_ enjoy their dance.

Holding Granger's hand didn't feel as dirty as he had expected it to be. It was surprisingly normal. Not as soft as Pansy's of course, but then again, Pansy spent her entire night putting on some sort of cream on her hands to make them soft and supple. Yuck, he thought.

He had quickly returned her to Krum and left with a small smile on his face. Being her enemy, he never had a reason to ask her for one dance. To his disbelief, he actually wanted to dance with her especially after looking at her before the ball. That night, she wasn't Hermione Granger, the walking-talking-library, the _Mudblood_. He cringed at the thought of how one dance had mushed up his brain. To him that night, she was Hermione Granger, full of radiance and grace.

Draco's eyes widened in shock. Is this love? He thought, alarmingly. Stupid fourteen year old hormones. His eyes narrowed at the very thought of him falling for Hermione Granger. Pansy had found him brooding in the corner of the hall just five minutes ago and had not let go of him ever since. Her attempts of asking him to dance were met with deaf ears until a Beauxbaton boy had come up to her and asked her to dance. She left with him gladly, glaring at a gloomy looking Draco.

"I hate hormones," Draco muttered to himself as he walked out of the Great Hall. Everyone was leaving soon, save a few couples enjoying themselves to some slow songs on the dance floor. "I hate girls."

As soon as he left the Great Hall, he saw Granger sobbing on the stairs. Her hair was still intact; it hadn't exploded back to its former mane-like glory yet. He just stood there and stared at her. Normally, he would've just sneered at her and metaphorically kick her while she was already down; Malfoys were gentlemen and would never hit a woman. He stared at his feet, then back to her.

"Go away, Ron," She growled.

"I'm appalled you would ever associate me with that cancerous red tumour you have growing by your side," He drawled.

Her eyes came into contact with his as she looked up slowly. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," she said tiredly, the salty tears stained her cheeks. He expected more from the little lioness. Perhaps a fierce warning for him to never look at him again. He ran one hand through his perfectly styled hair, wincing as he realized he might have just messed it up. Draco walked up to her, fishing out something from his breast pocket.

A monogrammed handkerchief flashed in front of Hermione's face. "Take it, Granger," Draco said. "I can't stand people crying in front of me." Hermione looked at him warily before carefully taking the silk cloth into her own hand. Rubbing her eyes softly, she did not once look at him.

"You know, you're not all that bad, Granger," Draco said, a smirk on his lips, still standing over her.

"Not all that bad?" Hermione suddenly flew into a rage. "What wonderful choice of words, Malfoy! I should be saying that to you, not the other way!" Draco took a step back as she rose from her seat on the steps. "You foul, loathsome, evil – " Draco's hand was on her mouth. "I think we've been through his before, Granger. As you said, I am a cockroach." He retracted his hand immediately after he said his piece.

"You BIT me!" He looked at his hand in shock. "Yes, Malfoy, I bit you," Hermione crossed her arms around her chest. "I don't even know why I'm wasting my time with you here." Damned hormones, why was he still here? He should be in the Slytherin Common Room right now, bragging about his (not so) wonderful time at the ball.

"Sweet Salazar, I could say the same thing about you," Draco smirked. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking of a way to put his current feelings into words. "You're a pretty great dancer, Granger."

Hermione scowled. "We're never ever, ever bringing that up. I do not want to relive my moment of shame. I felt my dignity hit the floor as soon as I danced with you."

Draco growled, as if she hit a nerve. "Whatever, Granger." He stormed off to his dorms. "Stupid girls," he mumbled under his breath.

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><p>Hermione returned to her room in silence, trying to register everything that happened to her that night. She had cried to herself when Ron hurt her. Lying on her bed, she fiddled with her hands, finding that she still had the silk handkerchief. A monogrammed 'D.M.' was stitched exquisitely at the bottom right corner in gold. So soft, she thought, just like his hands. She closed the curtains around her four-poster bed and muttered a small silencing charm around her, for peaceful sleep.<p>

Dancing with Malfoy had been odd. She never expected him to actually treat her with respect, especially since he was a giant prat, but he did. He kept his hands on her waist, never lower than that. He danced with her easily, like it was the most relaxing thing to do in the world.

But the thing she remembered the most was the feeling of energy bursting through her hand, straight to her chest when she held his hand. It felt nice, strangely. She frowned and sat up. Malfoy was different today. He was actually nice, civil at the most, and not once did he call her a Mudblood.

What the bloody hell was he actually playing at? Stupid git. Stupid Viktor for making her dance with him. If he didn't ditch her in the first place to go meet his mates, she wouldn't be in this position right now, staring at the curtains, trying to piece together today's events in her head.

Why did he walk away when she said that she felt her dignity hit the floor when she danced with him? Did he actually bother about her perceptions of him? Pfft, he was Draco Malfoy, why would he care about what she thought of him? She groaned. He wasn't worth her time.

Hermione flipped to the side, not bothered to change out of her ball dress, and fell into a deep slumber that lasted all the way till morning.

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><p>An owl came for her in the next day during breakfast. Hermione opened it eagerly. She hardly ever got mails. She was still ignoring Ron, of course, with him being an absolute idiot to her last night. She sulked slightly when she read the contents of the letter.<p>

_**I want my handkerchief back. I believe it is still in your possession, unless you might have disposed of it somehow.**_

_**DM**_

She searched for him in the opposite table. All this work, making an owl do his bidding, just to get back his soft, silky, wonderful handkerchief? She glared at Malfoy once she made eye contact with him, tearing the letter into half.

She grinned.

Stupid prat.

But she returned it to him, eventually, after a week of his pestering her. Well, his owl actually, knocking on her window every single night. She did it for his owl. It was all for his owl. For the welfare of the owl.

She knew, somehow, that Malfoy was different. Slightly different, but in a good way.

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><p>It all really started a week after she returned his handkerchief. She found the same owl tapping furiously at her window with a letter tied to its leg. As soon as she took the letter, the owl stayed. It wanted a reply. She opened the letter carefully and curiously, afraid of a curse that it might contain. To her amazement, it was something entirely different. She sat down on her bed and read it. It only contained a paragraph but it was just what it needed to blend all her emotions into one.<p>

Astonishment. Rage. Anger. Compassion. Sympathy. Amazement. Surprise. Fury. Shock.

_**I'm so sorry for everything, Granger, all the name calling and teasing etc etc etc. I'm not a man of many words so you better appreciate me writing this letter to you. Not one shred of dignity left in me after writing this letter, mind you.**_

_**DM**_

Hermione quickly took out a quill and a new parchment and furiously wrote a short but sweet reply.

_**You're barely a man at fourteen, Malfoy. And, I didn't know you even had dignity to begin with. You're an idiot, nonetheless.  
><strong>_

_**Hermione Granger.**_

And it went on from there.

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><p>Their friendship was not a conventional one, it being mainly on parchment, they spoke through their letters to each other. Stupid hormones, as Draco called them, had prevented him from actually making conversation to her in the first place. They, however, did hang out in the kitchens sometimes, taking a late night snack.<p>

They would just spend their time talking about stuff. Favourite classes. Favourite professors. What sweets they liked. She found out that he wasn't all that bad of a guy. He had been brainwashed by his parents from a very young age to hate all people who weren't pureblooded like himself. She noticed that every time he talked about his family, she could hear regret and disappointment in his voice, as if he was ashamed of himself.

He would listen to her talk about her life as a Muggle. They got to know each other, really. He put his childish prejudices aside because he knew, it was the damn hormones. Not to mention, he was actually just really jealous of her being an extremely smart Muggle-born who had incidentally topped him in every single class.

They were fast friends. Though they were not as close as Hermione was with Harry and Ron, they were comfortable enough in each other's presence. They were smart, strong-willed and stubborn. Occasionally, Draco would ask her questions on their homework.

They drifted apart slightly during their fifth year where Hermione had joined the Order while Draco became Umbridge's crony. But they had their letters and their midnight meetings. Nothing much had changed for them then. They were both fifteen. Draco was still a stupid prat. Hermione was still a know-it-all bookworm.

But Draco was a boy with raging hormones.

And Hermione was growing into a very pretty girl.

And Draco knew that Hermione was growing into a very pretty girl.

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><p>It all changed during their sixth year. She could feel their young two-year friendship was at a standstill. He no longer wrote back to her as quickly as he normally would. He looked so tired all the time, especially during classes. His skin was paler than the usual, almost pasty. Dark rings began appearing under his eyes. He was changing right before her eyes and she didn't know what she could do about it.<p>

She wanted to ask him so badly about what happened to him. She hoped it was just hormones or a heavy workload. That boy and his hormones, been complaining about it his entire life, she thought.

Hermione cornered him after class one day and pushed him into a broom closet.

"I know I'm that attractive, Granger, but if you wanted a snog, couldn't you have just asked?" Draco drawled, the exhaustion in his voice was hidden well, but she caught it anyways. She put two hands on his shoulders and sat him down on a box that was conveniently there.

"I want to know what's going on with you, Malfoy," She growled. "It's barely been a few months since we've been back in school. You can't have had so much homework to cause those rings under your eyes."

Draco looked away from her.

"Sodding hell, Granger, must you know everything?" he said softly. He wanted to tell her everything. Everything that was happening to him at the moment. How his life had changed in the previous summer. He unconsciously rubbed his left forearm, looking at his shoes.

"You've changed, Draco," she whispered. "I'm worried." The way she said his name sent a jolt down his spine. Nobody ever said his name in that manner before. Never, not even his own mother.

"You don't know anything, Granger." He stood up and hissed at her. "Leave me alone, for your own good." He opened the closet door and walked off.

Hermione sat on the box that he sat on and sighed.

She cared for him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be enemies. Their friends were enemies. She was enemies with his friends and he was enemies with her friends.

It was all so complicated. Too complicated for her liking.

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><p>Hermione heard the familiar tapping sound on her room window. The owl was there, waiting for her.<p>

_**Astronomy Tower, midnight.**_

_**DM**_

She shakily held the letter. Midnight was only a half hour away.

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><p>He breathed in a familiar scent of vanilla and raspberry. Her scent. Is this what Amortentia is supposed to smell like? He pondered. Her arms were wrapped around him as she engulfed him in a hug. Leaning against the railing, Hermione put her head against his back.<p>

"You're not supposed to hug me, Granger," he said, despondently. "I'm not the person you think I am. I've changed; I'm not the same anymore."

"Let me help you," Hermione said so softly, it was barely a whisper. "Let me."

"I didn't have a choice, Hermione," he said, hanging his head low.

"Everyone has a choice, Draco," she said, turning him around to look at her. She was shocked by what greeted her. He was a shadow of his former self. Paler than usual, he seemed to glow in the moonlight. Gaunt, even. All traces of his arrogance were gone. There were lines on his face that weren't there before.

"Shut up, Granger! I didn't have a choice. I'm evil! You should go, now!" he said to her, his voice coming out strangled. He could feel his eyes were becoming watery but he couldn't cry, not in front of her, not in front of anyone.

"Maybe you just made the wrong choice, Draco." Her voice was soothing. "It's alright, I can help you. Nobody is evil, there's good in everyone." She cupped his face in her hand, tracing his cheek with her thumb.

He pushed her away from him. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he quickly pushed back the sleeve of his left arm, revealing the Mark. He hung his head in shame. He hoped she understood why he said he didn't have a choice. Her eyes glazed over the ugly on his arm.

He choked out. "I- I was chosen, do you understand?" The tears started to run. "I'm not like you or your friends! I don't even know why you're still friends with me for all I've done!"

How would she ever understand? Draco thought bitterly. She had good friends, a wonderful family, no evil snakehead breathing behind her back all the time. Stupid ugly Mark, tarnishing his once pure skin. All he could see when he looked at it was the foul truth of his destiny.

He wasn't the boy who made all the wrong choices. He was the boy who had no choice.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he wept.

She pulled him into her arms. She can't say that she understood what he was going through right now but she wished she did. He looked like he was in immense pain and nothing could bring him out of the abyss he was in. She felt sorry for him, and anger, to whoever made him take the Mark. He was just a boy, a sixteen-year-old boy.

"Draco, look at me," Hermione looked into his eyes. His watery, grey eyes that always seemed so cold now showed his innocence, his vulnerability. Hermione placed a hand on his cheek, wiping off the tears, and then pulling him closer to her.

"Do what you think is right, Draco. If you tell me to leave you alone, I'll be alright, you know?" She said faintly. "Remember, I'll always be just a quill and parchment away if you need to talk."

"Thank you, Hermione," he said inaudibly.

The last thing he ever expected was Hermione Granger's soft lips crashing into his own. He held her tighter in their fiery embrace as he kissed her back with fervor and passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to deepen the kiss. It was nothing like the both of them had ever felt before. He felt free, like a small burden had been lifted off his shoulders. She felt fireworks.

"Remember this, Malfoy, for better or worse, I got you," Hermione smiled at his, putting her head on his shoulders.

He stood behind her as she prepared herself to leave.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," He whispered. "This may be my only chance to tell you, I love you."

Hermione turned around and smiled softly at him.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Draco."

"Obliviate."

/FIN.

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><p><em>I wasn't very satisfied with a few bits of this story. Your reviews are love!<br>I was also thinking of whether I shouls continue it, make it a multi-chaptered on, set in the future.__  
>Please tell me what you think! <em>  
><em>x<em>


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